The Music of Death
by Corpsegirl93
Summary: My first Titanic fan fic, so please be nice and do enjoy reading :D
1. Chapter 1

'The Music of Death'.

Chapter One: Musical Madness.

Date: 10th April 2012.

Time: 4:05pm

Location: Walkway Studios: Musical Auditions Today 4pm.

Fiona walked, energetically pacing the dull-coloured carpeted hallway. Her heart was racing like an engine at full speed, no chance of slowing down, her mind simultaneously pounding with nerves, eagerness and adrenaline. Her arms folded over her chest, her chocolate brown hair loose over her shoulders and her brown leather knee-high boots clunking against the floor, Fiona hummed the tune to herself, not caring if she got suspicious looks from the fellow audition applicants sitting patiently by the door.

"Will you sit down and shut up?! Your pacing is giving me a headache!" Sarah moaned. Sarah was Fiona's friend and her company for the day – her dark blonde hair, blue eyes, perfect dress sense and professional-style make-up faced Fiona, who ignored her stares and continued tapping her thumbs against her elbows.

"I can't calm down! How can I? I'm so nervous! And I have every right to be! Four months of preparation, well earned money, rehearsal, training and it all comes down to just five minutes in there! If I don't get a good mark, my career is over!"

"There are other opportunities…"

"Not that I'm aware of!" Fiona cried, raising a stern pointed index finger at her friend. "Think carefully before you answer this Sarah, but how many singers have you seen, without them being in a rock band or film?"

"Not many because I don't watch that sort of thing. You know my style of entertainment, Fiona."

"I'll tell you" Fiona said, having ignored Sarah's answer. "Hardly. It's a very tricky business to get in to, show business. There's so much pressure to be perfect. Perfect hair, figure, voice, training, personality, style and fashion sense. Why do you think I've spent so much money on clothes, make-up and perfume, and all my time at the gym? You don't get work in the acting industry just by clicking your fingers and flashing your tits. Serious work has to be done, no cutting corners. Do it all, or not at all."

"Another way of saying 'live life while you can'. No exceptions." Sarah completed Fiona's speech.

"Exactly. And Leo DiCaprio taught me that."

"He did not; he recited the line that James Cameron created that you saw in your favourite film. _**Jack Dawson**_ said it, not Leo DiCaprio."

"One way or another, _Titanic _taught me a lot of things. The famous song being one of them."

"Which you are about to perform, having spent months of training and perfecting to its absolute best. Your singing puts Celine Dion to shame. Now sit down before you make yourself dizzy." Sarah instructed, slamming her hand down on the chair next to her. Fiona – like the girl she was – agreed to her friend's instruction and plumped herself down on the seat, taking deep, calming breaths.

"I just don't want to disappoint my parents, you know? We've had enough bad news lately, they deserve a happy ending."

"No one could have predicted the worst, Fiona. Not even the best doctors in the world."

"Even though they said there was a 3% chance of…well, there was a 97% chance of survival, I'll put it that way."

"Never-the-less, think of her today. You said so yourself, when you were a child, your Nan saw something in you that your Mum didn't. Something that said you were intent for performance. You've gotten through so many gruelling auditions, so much hard work, and so much time and effort put in. Don't stop now because of a few nerves. Your Nan wouldn't want you to back down now."

Fiona sniffed away a small tear that was forming in the corner of her eye. She wiped it away, saw the droplet on her finger and moaned at the sight of her 'waterproof' mascara on her finger.

"Waterproof, my arse!" she cursed as she pulled out a small compact mirror to examine her make-up. Just as she snapped it shut and placed it back in her bag, the entrance doors opened, and in the doorway stood a mid-twenties man with sandy blonde hair and chocolate coloured eyes. He held a piece of paper in his hand and gazed over the other applicants waiting in the corridor.

"Fiona Johnston?" he asked, still looking over at everyone. Even though she wanted to shy away and run off, Fiona couldn't help but cry out loud:

"That's me!"

Before she knew it, she was jumping off the seat, Sarah slowly getting up after her.

"We're ready for you now. Is your friend joining you?" he asked, nodding to Sarah.

"Yes. She's playing the piano for my piece."

"OK, whenever you're ready" the man smiled. Fiona – now glowing with excitement – turned to Sarah.

"Ready?"

Sarah raised an eyebrow at her friend in response that meant 'yes'.

Taking some final deep breaths, Fiona walked in with her head held high and her lungs full of air. Ready to perform.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two: Showtime!

Time: 4:15pm

The stage lay ahead of Fiona like a swimming pool with untouched water – it was impossible to ignore and so tempting to rush up to. The audition room was – to no surprise – an entire stage and auditorium. 'No pressure' Fiona thought to herself.

"If you'd like to take your places on the stage, and let us get set up" the sandy blonde haired man said. He was obviously the judge. Judging by the fact he sat down next to two other people. One middle aged woman with ruby red hair and piercing green eyes, and an older man aged roughly in his 60's, with going-grey brown hair and a crisp clean lilac shirt.

"Where would you like me to stand?" Fiona asked.

"Just on the cross" the ruby-haired woman said. Fiona looked down to see a masking-tape cross on the stage floor, peeling away at some edges and fading in colour. She placed her brown boots on the cross and looked up, just in time for the stage hands to shine a bright spotlight on to her, practically blinding her eyes. Fiona looked over to see Sarah laying out the music sheets upon the piano, in preparation. Sarah then looked over at Fiona and winked, meaning she was ready. Fiona turned back to see the ruby-haired woman look up at her with her piercing eyes.

"So Fiona, before we begin, tell us a bit about yourself" she said. At this point, the other men looked up at her, making her feel like the prey being hunted by the predator.

"Um, well…I've been training to sing for the past three years now. In the meantime, I have been studying my A Levels at school, doing volunteer work at my local charity shops, and in my spare time I bake cakes and sweet treats, I do some art work and…"

"That's enough, thank you" the older man said, raising a hand to tell her to stop.

"And what are going to be singing for us today? Anything we know?" the blonde haired man ignored the older man, smiling and looking at Fiona with kind eyes. She decided – seeing as she didn't know his name – that she'd call him…Peter. After her late Uncle. Fiona also decided to call the woman 'Ruby' because of her hair, and the older man 'Kenneth'.

"Yes, I'm very sure you do know it. I think everyone does. It is 'My Heart Will Go On' from the film _Titanic_, originally performed by Celine Dion." Fiona explained, looking back at Sarah who smiled eagerly.

"And why did you choose this song?" 'Peter' asked.

"I chose this song because I am _**very**_ interested in Titanic – not just the film, but the history. I think the song resonates a sort of beauty that everyone should feel once in their life, and the lyrics – just like the film – are so beautiful that it makes me cry."

"OK. Well, whenever you're ready." 'Peter' finished.

Fiona looked back at Sarah, who immediately turned to the piano, placing her fingers on the keys. The beginning of the song floated across the hall like a lullaby as Sarah guided her fingers across the keys with such precision.

"Every night in my dreams,

I see you, I feel you

That is how I know you, go on" Fiona began to sing, her voice hitting the notes with such perfection. She knew every high, every low, every octave and every word. It was like the song was written especially for her. The words rolled off her tongue like she had known them the moment she was born.

"Far across the distance and spaces between us

You have come to show you go on" Fiona carried on, entrancing the three people audience and the few backstage hands hanging around to catch eye of the other applicants.

"Near, far, wherever you are.

I believe that the heart does go on."

Every note, every word. Everything was going perfectly.

Until…a small commotion was heard above the stage amongst the backstage-handlers, their cries an shouts muffled by the sound of the piano.

"Look out!" one cried.

"Duck!" another said. Though just as Fiona heard one small muffled cry and looked up to see what was happening, it was too late. The theatre itself was old, dusty and in need of certain repairs, one of which was the roof. A single red brick had detached from the roof, suddenly plummeting down towards the exact spot where Fiona stood.

Everything slowed down…Fiona saw the brick get closer and closer…she didn't recognise it, thought it was a trick from the spotlight…but it wasn't…the judges instantly saw the obstacle coming closer, rising from their seats just as…

The brick collided with Fiona's head. Sarah – having had her back turned the entire time – only heard the cries and thump. When she turned, but still playing to see what was going on, she saw the judges rushing to the stage, and Fiona's unconscious body on the stage, out cold with a single terracotta red brick lying next to her head. Her eyes were shut, her legs were splayed but her breathing was consistent. She was still very much alive but a small trickle of red was seen coming from her head – evidently where the brick had struck her.

"Oh my god! Fiona!" Sarah screamed as she abandoned the piano, rushing to her friend's side, as the judges joined her one by one.

"Fiona, can you hear me? Fiona! What happened?" she asked 'Peter'.

"The brick…came from nowhere. It struck her head…and she fell." 'Peter' then turned his attention up to the stage handlers upon the balcony who overlooked the commotion with worry.

"What the hell happened?!" he yelled.

"It wasn't our fault sir, honest. The brick just fell. You know how old this place is!" one cried back.

"Come on Fiona, wake up. Don't do this to us! Come on!" Sarah cried, trying to keep the tears back, but failing. Fiona as unresponsive, still as a statue, thankfully breathing but out cold. She couldn't hear Sarah's cries, or the commotion around her.

She only heard…water. Sea water.

And she could feel…heat. Warm, radiating sun light beaming down on to her face.

She took a deep breath and smelt salt. Salt? Where the hell would you be if you could smell salt, feel sunshine and hear sea water…oh! She was on a beach!

'Oh thank god for that!' she thought as she slowly opened her eyes, taking in a deep breath to fill her lungs with that salty aroma. As her eyes opened, she saw sun-lounging chairs beside her with elegant women lying asleep on them, finding herself lying on one too.

She started to sit up, taking in her surroundings. A boat deck. That's where she was. Not a beach. 'Damn!' she thought. 'I was hoping for sunny Spain and a cosmopolitan cocktail in my hand!' she whined to herself. But this was just as good. She was on a cruise, of some sort.

Yeah sure, a cruise…where men and women wear such weird clothes. Old clothes, to be precise. And children were running around in these clothes too, playing games. No sign of a Nintendo or an iPod anywhere!

'Strange'.

Fiona got up from her sun-lounger, feeling the sensation in her feet return as she settled them on to the boat deck and stood up, walking towards the edge of the boat, where the railing separated them from the sea and the monstrous drop below.

That's what Fiona saw. A monstrous drop, ranging down hundreds and hundreds of feet! Like she was looking over the edge of a sky-scraper in New York!

"Bloody hell! This is one hell of a boat!" she cried, out loud.

"It's not a boat, it's a ship" a little girl said as she passed Fiona from behind. She was a cute little girl, with curly brown hair, a cute little cream dress and a small china doll in her right hand, her left in her father's clutch.

"Is it? Oh, my mistake" Fiona said. "I mean, it is a very big ship."

"Largest in the world, miss" the girl's father added. "And the finest to sail the ocean."

"I bet it is."

The father and daughter began to walk off, leaving Fiona with unanswered questions. Before they had walked ten feet, Fiona caught up with them, saying:

"Terribly sorry sir, but um…I've been rather…drowsy lately and I've been sleeping most of this journey. Could you remind me, where are we going?"

"New York, of course."

"New York? Wow! When did we leave?"

"Two days ago. On the 10th."

"So today is the 12th. Of what month?"

"April."

"And…year?"

"My goodness, you have been drowsy. 1912, miss."

"1912?" Fiona said, shocked. Not only for the reason she was 100 years back in time, but the fact the pieces of the puzzle suddenly all fit in to place.

"Yes miss. April 12th 1912. You, I, my dear daughter and indeed the other 2000 passengers on board this ship are heading for a new life in New York. And where better to start than by sailing on the grandest ship in the world? The R.M.S. _Titanic_!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three: I'm on a boat!

Date: April 12th 1912.

Time: Unknown.

Location: Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean on ship that will sink in three days! HELP!

"The Titanic?" Fiona stuttered.

"The one and only" the man replied.

'Fat chance' Fiona thought. 'Give it one hundred years and you'll have them announcing the number two. Why?!'

"Um…what time is it?"

The man checked his watch as his daughter looked on impatiently.

"It is five minutes past two o clock."

"Thank you, sir" Fiona smiled, and watched the man and his daughter walk away along the boat deck.

Update: Time: 2:05pm

"Oh hell! Oh hell oh hell oh hell!" Fiona practically screamed to herself, grabbing hold of the railings and looking over, down to the base of the ship where the ocean waves lapped at the side. Fiona fought back the sudden urge to be sea sick, and pushed herself away back from the railings and back towards her sun-lounging seat.

"How the hell did I get here? W_**hy**_ am I here? More importantly, how do I get out of here? Off this ship?" She realised she had said that last sentence out loud, catching the attention of the passengers, looking at her like she was insane.

"My apologies" she answered. "Uh…I'm an actress…rehearsing lines" she smiled back at the passengers, who then returned to their daily business of doing nothing.

"An actress, huh?" a voice came. Fiona turned to see a young man, about her age, looking at her with hazelnut eyes, holding a violin case in his left hand, his right hanging limply at his side. He was a few inches taller than Fiona, wearing black trousers, a faded white shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a muddy brown waistcoat that was missing two buttons, scuffed black shoes that looked like they would fall apart at any moment, all complete with scruffy brown hair that hung over his eyebrows and cut short so it stopped at his ears.

His violin case looked like it had seen many generations of use, the fabric peeling at its edges and the paint on the handle flaking in several places.

The boy, who was smiling an irresistible grin, awaited a response from Fiona – who stood dazzled at the sight of him.

"Um…" she began, stuttering. "Yes, an actress…hoping for my success to begin in New York."

"Well, here better a place than to start your success, ay?" the boy replied.

"Indeed" Fiona replied. "Where better a place. I see you play the violin?" she added, pointing to his withered old case.

"Indeed" the boy commented. "No chance of making a fortune in England, so New York is where I'll go."

"I know. England does lack certain…recognition in the performance industry. I'm Fiona" she held forward her right hand for the boy to shake. He gladly shook Fiona's hand with his free right hand, beaming as she formerly introduced himself.

"Lovely to meet you Miss Fiona. My name is Thomas."

"Thomas" Fiona grinned.

"Taken after my grandfather and his before him."

"I wish I could say that about my name. Simply hand-picked because the others did not amuse my parents."

"Don't sound so displeased with it, Miss Fiona. It is a lovely name."

'_Charming, good-looking, sweet and complimentary. All he needs now is a sense of humour and he's my dream man! Even if he is one hundred years before my time.'_

"Oh, I'm not displeased Thomas. I am merely…grateful that my parents did not choose an unfitting name."

"It fits perfectly, if I may say so."

"You may. As does Thomas" Fiona could swear – if it wasn't for the April heat – she could feel herself blushing. "What part of the ship are you from?"

"You mean what class am I from?"

"I do not mean to offend, but out of curiosity, you understand…"

"I am from third class, Miss Fiona. Not overloaded with riches, but know how to enjoy life."

'_Eeek! And he shares my same thoughts on life and fulfilment!'_

"My thoughts precisely."

"May I guess you are from first class?" Thomas asked.

"What makes you say that? Certainly not my…" Fiona began, before looking down to see the clothes she wore. She had not taken in to account what she was wearing a few minutes ago when she woke, but naturally assumed she was in something similar to Thomas' – brown skirt, white blouse, black small-heeled shoes and some sort of shawl around her shoulders, with her hair in a bun. But no. Not what she had thought.

Instead, she was wearing a scarlet red dress with touches of cream lace at the cuffs and hem of the skirt. It was made from the finest fabric she'd seen, touched the wooden deck of the ship, and highlighted her figure – which until now she believed could be improved in some places. This dress was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and it came complete with auburn coloured boots, small-heeled and made from leather.

Complete on her arm was a tiny purse, covered in cream lace, dangling over her wrist by a thin silver chain. Fiona opened it in a hurry, ignoring Thomas' bewildered looks. She pulled out a small compact mirror that had tucked itself away neatly. She opened it wide and found her shocked face staring back at her. Ruby red lips, pink rosy cheeks, brown eyes and brown hair fashioned neatly in locks of thick curls.

_This isn't me! This can't be!_

Fiona tucked away the mirror back in her purse, looking back at Thomas who was examining her every move.

"Indeed, I am from first class."

"You certainly don't act like one." Thomas smiled, placing his violin case at his feet, folding his arms across his chest.

"Sometimes I forget…or just don't believe it. I certainly don't _feel_ like one Thomas, I shall confess that."

"You most definitely talk like a first class girl."

"This is my posh voice. Back home, I'm the southern girl who can't shut up."

"And where is 'back home'?"

"London. Good ol' blighty."

"London? Posh!"

"Not entirely. It lacks in places and sometimes I wonder why I'm still there, and why I haven't moved on to pastures new."

"Meaning?" Thomas asked, as Fiona rested her arms on the railings. He came close to her by copying her position and resting his arms, one on top of another, his elbows nearly touching hers.

"Meaning…living in the same place for nineteen years has its effects on me. I'm so used to seeing the same walls every day, it makes me feel crazy. And every time I am out of the house and exploring new things, I don't want to go home. I just want to continue exploring and only stop when my bed calls to me."

"Well, why don't you?" Thomas asked. Fiona looked to him like he didn't understand.

"Several reasons. One of which is…"

"Let me guess…money?"

"Money, yes. I don't have enough to support me for a week, let alone the rest of my life."

"You don't need money when you've got a free spirit."

"The other thing being my parents."

"What's wrong with parents?" Thomas asked. "What's not to love about them?"

"Evidently you're parents are saints compared to mine."

"I wouldn't say that…largely because I've never met your parents."

"Let's keep it that way. Mum would never approve of me being on a ship, let alone travelling in first class."

"You shouldn't be so harsh about your parents. They're the best thing that can happen to you. Family."

"I'm guessing you have a family you idolise?" Fiona asked, turning to Thomas.

"Of course, why wouldn't I? They gave me life, love, two darling little sisters and joy for every new day."

"You have two sisters?"

"Yes. Lucy and Minerva. Seven and nine years old."

"Ah, sweet. Wish I had a sister. The closest thing I have to a sister is the family dog. But I love her like a sister, so…close enough." Fiona thought back to her Labrador dog at home, probably fast asleep on her 'day bed' A.K.A. the living room sofa, unaware her sister was one hundred years behind her time.

"Thomas?" Fiona began.

"Yes Miss Fiona?"

"Stop calling me 'Miss' Fiona. Makes me feel like royalty. I don't like that."

"I call you 'Miss' because I believe you are fit to be royalty."

_Smooth talker!_

"Charming, and thank you. But the real me yearns for adventure, excitement, thrills and life, not jewels, class, boundaries and fashion. This corset is like a chain that holds me back. I yearn to cut loose and fly off in to the horizon. Without it, I am a free spirit."

"Cliché!"

"I know, right?"

"Still, you are a free spirit no matter what. Nothing can hold you back except the limit you set yourself." Thomas quoted.

_I swear I've heard that in an advert somewhere._

"True, true. I tell myself everything is impossible, but truth be told…nothing can really stop me. Thomas. When you arrive in New York, what do you plan to do next?"

"Start earning a living as a musician; maybe get some work for a big name in the city, bring some money home to help support my family. And you?"

"Go home."

"Go home? Back to London, when you've just spent four days travelling on board the finest ship all the way to New York? Back to the place that holds you back from conquering your fears and realising your dreams?"

"No. Home to my parents. Back to Mum and Dad. I want to tell them I love them, and no matter what happens, I always will."

"You make it sound like you're going to die."

_Funny you should mention that._

"I'm not. But just in case I were to die soon – or unexpectedly – they need to know. I cannot take that risk of leaving this world and them not knowing what I feel."

"Fiona."

"Good, no more 'Miss'."

"Fiona, on a more positive note. Would you like to join me for a walk along the deck? This lunchtime sunshine is too glorious to miss."

Fiona hesitated. The first proper invitation from a guy, for a walk along a ship that will soon go down (literally) in history. How could she say no?

"Don't mind if I do, thank you Thomas."

Then, arm in arm, with Thomas' spare hand gripping on to his violin case and Fiona's spare hand holding on to her new purse, they journeyed down the deck of the ship, heading towards the bow as the April sunshine radiated their figures.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four: Third Class Shenanigans!

Date: April 13th 1912

Time: 22:10 – late at night!

Location: Third class, with Thomas!

Fiona talking:

Reader, you're probably wondering what happened to me since my last entry, yesterday afternoon. I'm sorry for the lack of communication but, you see, I've been having such an amazing time with Thomas!

Yesterday evening, I managed to find my way to 'my room' and change in to something a lot more satisfying, though rather expensive and posh for my taste. I found a dark purple dress that stopped at the floor, but was sleeveless and covered in lace.

So I put that on, and snuck myself down to the third class levels on the ship with Thomas, where he introduced me to his family: mother Beatrice, father Bernard and his two sisters, Lucy and Minerva. They were too cute to believe! They told me how beautiful my dress was, how much I looked like a princess from a fairy-tale, and asked me if they could try some of my perfume. It broke my heart to think that tomorrow night, whilst they would be fast asleep in their beds, the choice of whether they survived the night or not was undecided – in other words, if they would survive the sinking or not.

That also troubled me. The sinking. I was on a doomed ship; nothing could be done to stop it. From all my knowledge and read-ups about the sinking, all the factors were piecing together like a jigsaw. The iceberg, the speed of the ship, the fact that the men in the crows nest had no binoculars to look for icebergs with. It was all coming together, slowly bit by bit.

"_**So why are you down in third class when you should be finding a way of getting off the ruddy ship?"**_ I hear you cry!

"Because whatever time I have been given on board this ship, I am going to spend it wisely, whether I die tomorrow night or not. And my idea of spending it wisely is creating a possible romance with an amazing young man, at the same time enjoying the resources on the ship – in this case, the third class parties." I would reply.

So tonight, I was back in the same place. The first class dinners were too posh and uptight, and I didn't know anyone in second class so third class with Thomas fit my requirements perfectly. And tonight, my dress was a navy blue creation. This time, it stopped at my ankles, dripped with crystal clear beads, trimmed with cream lace at the short sleeves. I had left behind the cream satin dinner gloves and the jewels back upstairs in 'my room – I'm still reeling from the surprise of that! My heels came with me – well, a girl has to wear heels whatever the century! These weren't anything particularly special (compared to the other shoes) but never-the-less they were still beautiful – cream satin with a small diamante bow at the toes, with a small two inch heel. Perfect for dancing in. And believe me; I'd need good shoes for all the dancing I was doing to all this music.

Sure, it wasn't Paramore or My Chemical Romance, but my god; it was fun to dance along to! The rhythm of it all pulsated through the floor boards, all around the room and through the walls – it was pure ecstasy for my veins.

Thomas was enjoying watching me enjoy the entertainment. He sat at a table nearby and all the time, he had his eyes on me, smiling. And all that time, I loved knowing his eyes were on me. Never in my life, in this century or the 21st, had I had such a rush from one man looking at me. But then it all came true!

He was coming over to dance with me!

"Slow breaths Fiona, remember this isn't a dream. If he kisses you, don't pull away. When he puts his hands on you, accept it! And whatever you do, dance like the 20th century – no club dancing and grinding!"

Thomas edged closer. I could see the anxiety in his eyes, as he rubbed his sweaty palms against his trousers.

I felt exactly the same. My throat went dry as he came closer, I could feel beads of sweat on my forehead and I prayed one wouldn't slide down my face! I did a single twirl on the dance floor, watching him out of the corner of my eye. By the time I had completed a third twirl, Thomas was inches from my face. My eyes met his, and we faced each other, still as statues.

Thomas made the first move. He took my left hand in his right, gently holding it like it was a glass egg. He then moved his left hand so it came in contact with…my waist! I followed his move and placed my right hand on his shoulder, assuming the correct position for a dance.

_Ah! So romantic!_

And then we danced.

Thomas took the lead and I accepted that – well, I wouldn't know how to myself – and with the music playing, it was perfect. Everything was perfect. The music, the lighting, the atmosphere, the outfits, the smells, the place…oh, everything but the place, and the time.

I had almost forgotten – we were on a doomed ship. I was one hundred years and hundreds of miles away from home. I wasn't supposed to be here. I was supposed to be at my singing audition, with Sarah, preparing the take a bow and leave the stage, preparing for another evening in at home with the TV, dinner, Mum, Dad and the dog. But I was far from any of that. In fact, I was doing the exact opposite of it. No TV, no dinner, no parents and no dog.

It felt odd. Strangely odd, but strangely right. I had always wanted to get out more, do more activities, live my life to its full and beyond. So why was I complaining?

_Look around Fiona! You know where you are!_

Yes, but look at _who_ I'm with! Probably the most charming, sweetest, caring – and most handsome – man I would ever meet! Don't get me wrong, the guys in the 21st century are nice, but compared to Thomas…well, you can tell what I'm saying.

God, if only Thomas existed in my day, then everything would be perfect.

But anyway, back to the dancing.

Thomas moved with me so fluid we were like water, his eyes locked on mine with such intensity, it was thrilling! Such passion and such energy going in to this dance, it was literally indescribable. I didn't want to think. In fact, I couldn't think. I was too fixated and entranced with dancing with Thomas that I didn't care about what thought popped in to my head.

_Fiona, the iceberg strikes tomorrow!_ I know.

_Fiona, it's going to be hell!_ Don't think I don't know that?!

_Fiona, 1500 people will run riot!_ No s*** Sherlock!

_He'll probably die_...OK, that thought I couldn't ignore. But still, I put it out of my mind – for tonight anyway. Tomorrow I can worry. Worry about how I'm getting off this ship alive and returning to my normal life. Worry about the idea of losing Thomas to the icy Atlantic water another time.

Huh, so simple to say yet so hard to accept.

We were still dancing even when the music had stopped. Thomas and I were locked in the embrace; we didn't notice everyone else was looking at us, even Lucy and Minerva, the looks on their faces absolutely priceless! Eyes wide and mouths ajar.

Thomas caught me glancing over at them, seeing the smiles on their faces. I could tell he felt embarrassed. But he didn't seem to care. He simply looked back at me, keeping one hand on my waist and the other holding my hand. Smiling that ever-so-charming smile of his at me, I couldn't help but smile back.

And with one simple blink of the eye, it was all over. All the things that the voice in my head had said were now taking effect. Within the next 48 hours, all the people in this room would either be dead or fighting for their life in the ocean. God, it hurt me inside to think this all. So, I had to escape the pain of history. Easy.

"It's getting rather late. I think I should go now" I said, seeing the disappointment in Thomas' eyes when I said that.

"Not now. It's still early." He begged.

"It's nearly eleven o clock. Everyone will be wondering where I am."

"There's no chance I can get you to stay a little longer?"

"None, I'm afraid." _I have to get out of here – NOW!_

On that note, I waved goodbye to Lucy and Minerva – who waved back, smiling pleasantly – and smiled at Thomas, looking around for the exit. Catching sight of the stairs that led up, I started making my way towards them. But I was suddenly held back by a strong hand on my wrist. Turning to face them, I saw Thomas' poor face looking at me with those adorable chocolate eyes.

"At least let me walk you back?" he said.

_AH! Walking me home, like a gentleman! God, I feel like Kate Winslet right now!_

"OK" I said.

We walked along the deck in silence. You could cut the romantic tension between us with a knife. But we walked with promise and possibility – if you get what I mean. I mean, even if the night didn't end well, we would resume the next day as if nothing had happened. Our dance together had sparked something hidden, and I was definitely not going to let that opportunity slip away – at least not for the next 24 hours whilst we were both still alive. Damn it, why were we on board a sinking ship? Why couldn't we be on dry land, in England, walking the streets in summertime with the sunshine beaming down on us like a spotlight? Choices in life are never fair. Mind you, if life was fair, my Nan would be alive, I would be a successful singer and actress by now without the stress of auditions, the ship I stood on wouldn't be doomed to sink and take down 1500 souls with her, and Thomas would be alive in a hundred years so we could be together, without the troubles of class and history between us.

"It's a calm and beautiful night" Thomas said, breaking the silence, finally!

"Yes. You could hear a pebble splash in that ocean" I added. That probably killed the romantic mood, but it was true. The sea was so calm; you could _**actually hear**_ a pebble splash.

"I suppose you could. Did you have fun tonight?"

"I've been having fun for the past two days. You?"

"Oh yes, definitely. These days have been the best fun I've had in a long time. And I've shared them with you" he beamed.

_Oh my god, I swear my heart just skipped a beat!_

"Really? That's so sweet, Thomas. I don't think…well, a man…has ever said that to me…ever!"

"Nothing like the first time, ay?" he added, before catching sight of the door leading to first class. He stopped in his tracks, knowing he couldn't go any further than that door, knowing this was the last he would see of me tonight.

"Oh, we're here. That was quick."

"Time flies when you're having fun" I added. Thomas smiled, and I could see the sadness in his eyes that he had to say goodnight to me. I didn't know what else to say – I'd never been in this sort of situation before – so I simply said:

"Goodnight Thomas" and turned towards the first class door. My head and my heart said "stay a little longer, kiss him if you want to" but my feet seemed to take control and have me walking towards the door. I was urging for Thomas to stop me in my tracks. He did. Just…not the way I had dreamt he would.

He took my hand in his; forcing me to turn around and he looked in to my eyes.

_Kiss me! Kiss me! Kiss me!_

"I want to ask you something" he began.

_Marriage is too soon!_

"What is it?"

_Is there a ring involved?_

"Will you…you…will you…" he stuttered.

"Yes?"

"Will you come to my room tomorrow night? After dinner?"

_Cheeky devil! But I guess it's a better move than marriage._

"Your room? Why?"

"I want to show you something. Something…rather private and personal. For your eyes and ears only."

_My eyes and ears only? Interesting._

"Of course. Around 11 o clock?" I replied.

"11 o clock it is. I'll see you then."

_There's still time for a kiss!_

And with that, he let go of my hand, smiled and started walking away across the boat deck.

_Damn it! So close!_

My mind screamed as his silhouette got smaller and smaller against the April Atlantic night sky.

_You're on a sinking ship – that you wish wouldn't go down – and you're in a relationship with a boy you wish would survive the horror that is soon to come._

Oh well, I guess not all dreams can be reality.

_Ha! Talk about irony Fiona!_


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five: The Final Night.

Date: April 14th 1912

Time: 10:57pm

Location: Second class corridors, en route to third class.

Fiona talking:

It's the night of the collision, and in less than one hour, all hell will break loose.

Naturally, I'm dreading but I can't let it ruin or affect my last night with Thomas.

I'm on my way now to his room. Dinner finished ten minutes ago – delicious if I may say so – and as soon as the last drop of champagne in my glass was swallowed, I leapt (not literally) from my chair and left the first class dining room.

Tonight, I was wearing another fantastic creation of a dress! It was a dark shade of red – close to dried blood – covered with the same colour lace, sleeveless and cutting at my toes, revealing the tip of my black small heeled shoes. Don't get me wrong, first class clothes are to-die-for, but they aren't half uncomfortable. How the hell did women cope? As soon as this night was over, I'd head back to my room and change in to something more comfortable, if there…oh, yes. I'd probably be running and screaming for my life by that time, along with another two thousand people.

Thomas had said he would meet me in the third class dining room at eleven, so here I was. It was empty now, except for a few dirty plates and cutlery sitting on the tables. And there he was, sitting by himself all alone at a table, watching the door with anticipation. He saw me enter and immediately got up from his seat, smiling eagerly as I approached him.

"It's 11 o clock" I said.

"It's 10:58, so you're early" he added. Not a moment later, he took me by the hand and started walking me through another door, leading to a small corridor.

"My room is this way. Mother, father, Lucy and Minerva are out walking on the deck, so we won't be disturbed" Thomas said.

_Disturbed? What would they be disturbing?_

Thomas came to a white painted door, turning the door handle and walking in, gently pulling me inside with him. Once I had walked in, he let go of my hand and shut the door behind him, turning to face me as I stood there.

"You look rather…shaken" he said.

_You don't say! We may have only three hours left to live!_

"Really? I don't _**feel**_ shaken. You do though" I added, noticing his face going a little pale and a small trickle of sweat running down his forehead.

"It's rather hot in here. Lucy and Minerva complain of the cold at night, so mother turns the heat up to an unbearable level. I can never stand it, but when it comes to my sister's needs, I will happily suffer."

"Any other man would tell them to have an extra blanket and stay quiet. That's rather noble, what you do."

"Only the best for the girls in my life. Speaking of which, take a seat…please."

There were no chairs around so I figured he meant for me to sit on his bed. So I did. The mattress was rather thin and the blanket was itchy under my fingers but it eased the pain from this dress, so I couldn't complain.

"I told you, I've got something to show you." Thomas began, remaining standing by the door.

"For my eyes and ears only, I remember."

"Yes." On that word, he suddenly knelt down to the floor towards his bed. His arms and head disappeared by my feet and I heard him rummaging around.

"What are you doing under there?"

"Just…trying to find…a-ha! Here it is!"

He appeared from under the bed, his violin case in his hands.

"It often has a way of slipping away easily. It's never in the same place twice" he smiled, unbuckling the locks and opening the case on the floor. He picked it up, along with a few sheets of paper with smudgy black ink marks on them – they almost looked like…

"Music sheets?" I asked.

"Yes. My own work. My own pieces of music."

"You write your own music?"

"I do, yes. And I have a very special piece for your ears only."

"You do?"

_Oh…my…god…he hasn't?! Has he?!_

"I do. I've been working on it since the day I met you. It's not finished, yet but it should be soon."

_No you won't Thomas. You'll be cold as ice before you can write another note._

"Soon? Like, tomorrow or tonight? Or, the next few hours?" I asked, trying not to let my nerves seep in to my voice.

"Not tonight, no. Tomorrow, maybe. If I put my mind to it."

_Dear God!_

"So…do you want to hear it?" he asked, standing upright with the violin in his hand, and the music sheets scattered by his violin case.

"Of course."

Thomas took his place next to me on his bed, sitting upright and positioning his violin on his shoulder and resting his chin upon it, in preparation. He cleared his throat as he placed the bow upon the strings, his eyes catching sight of me watching him in amazement and awe.

And then he began playing.

_Oh…my…god…this…can't…be…real_

This is too beautiful to be true. Thomas played with such…grace. Such…emotion and passion it was entrancing. All the time, I could see his eyes half-shut in concentration, his mind focused on performing his music to its absolute best – to pure perfection!

Back in the 21st century, where music was mostly rap, hip hop, R&B, pop and electric, it was easy to say you liked something…but to LOVE it? Adore it? Treasure it like your last day alive? Almost feel possessed by it? I know, sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? But it's true! What I was feeling right now…I couldn't possibly describe it any more than passionate, emotional and entrancing. And I think Thomas knew it too. He opened his eyes briefly to see me watching him, my eyes fixated on the movement of the bow upon the violin strings. He could see the love and admiration in my eyes, and he smiled back in response. I don't know how long he played for, but I cherished every second, every note and every piece of movement as Thomas played.

If I were to describe to you the sounds of the music, what would I say? It was upbeat, with a certain romantic rhythm? It was slow and sensual? It was sharp as a knife yet as soft as a rose petal? It was haunting and sent chills down my spine? No, not at all. It was so much more different! It was…how do I describe it? High-pitched, hypnotic, triumphant, melodious, glorious, fluid and…truly the best piece of music I have ever heard. I didn't want it to stop.

But it did, and I returned to reality with a 'drop' that reminded me where I was and who I was with.

_Goddamnit, why can't dreams become reality?_

Thomas watched me with anticipation and expectation, placing the violin to his side, the bow settling down next to it.

"Well?" he asked.

"What…was that?" I asked, astounded.

"That was my music. Well…actually…to be more precise…it was your music."

"My music? How? I didn't write it!"

"It's your music…because I wrote it for you especially. For your eyes and ears only."

"You wrote me a song?"

"I did, yes."

"But…why?"

_What kind of a question is that, Fiona?!_

"Because I wanted to, and I knew you'd love something like that." Thomas explained.

I paused for a moment, scanning Thomas' face as I tried to find the perfect words to say to him.

"It's so weird." I began.

"I thought it was more melodious, but…"

"No, I meant it…it's weird because…you've known me for three days, yet…it feels like you've known me your entire life. You seem to know…so much about me…in so little time."

"I can't deny it, I feel the same too. It's almost like…"

"We knew each other before we met?"

"Absolutely."

"What else do you think you know about me, Thomas?"

"What else?" he answered and I could have sworn he edged closer to me. "Well…I'd say…you're a classic romantic kind…meaning you like the little things in life. The smell of a flower. The sound of the ocean waves lapping on a beach. The sight of a sunrise on a winter morning. The simple things that make life so special. And when I say a classic romantic, I mean…you find it amorous if someone gives you a single flower as a present, not a whole bouquet. And you appreciate it more if your lover hugs you and kisses you when you're sad, instead of leaving you to cry by yourself."

_OK, smooth talking seducer or what?!_

"How are you so sure of that?" I asked, barely managing to say those words.

"Because if you weren't, you would have interrupted me whilst I was speaking. And you didn't, so you _**must **_be a classic romantic. I can see it in your eyes Fiona. Don't try and deny it."

_I can't deny it! It is true! Am I a sucker for love, or what?!_

By now, he had edged so close to me, we were barely touching. His hand placed itself on mine upon the bed, his thumb lightly stroking my knuckles. I looked down to see his fingers, but he beat me to it and took my head in his other hand. He placed his hand under my chin, keeping me fixated on his face…just as he leaned ever so closer…closer…closer…towards me. I could feel his lips just millimetres from brushing mine…so close…ever so close…just a little closer…I was too embraced in this romantic moment that I forgot…

But then…

And I remembered. I didn't remember automatically. It didn't come to me like a sudden epiphany. My mind didn't spring in to action all by itself. No.

It was the sudden shudder beneath our feet, under the floor and around the walls that made me glance at the clock on Thomas' mother's bed…

11:45pm

Collision time!

_No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no! NO!_

"This can't be happening. Not now" I whispered to myself, as I automatically pulled away from Thomas, not seeing the disappointment and defeat on his face.

"What's happening?" he asked, keeping his hand on my hand.

"Dear god, no! This is a nightmare!" I started screeching, suddenly pulling away from Thomas, leaping up from the edge of the bed and rushing towards the door.

"Fiona?! Fiona?! What do you mean? What's a nightmare?!" Thomas yelled after me, following me down the corridors. He tried to keep up with me, like a lion after its prey but I was outrunning him, despite my heeled shoes. I sprinted down corridors, dodged other passengers, burst through doors, climbed the stairs two steps at a time before I came to the upper boat deck, leaping at the railings that separated us from the sea and looked…

_Dear god, it's worse than I had thought!_

There it was. Silently drifting away from us like the ghostly predator it was. The iceberg.

"Fiona! What are doing? Come back inside, it's cold and it's…" Thomas shouted after me, before catching sight of the iceberg as it floated past us. "What is that?"

"It's an iceberg. And it's going to kill us." I said, not meaning to say that last bit.

"What do you mean 'it's going to kill us'?"

I turned to him, taking his hands in mine, looking up to his towering height and his chocolate brown eyes.

"Thomas…if you knew what I knew, you wouldn't believe me in a hundred years. Something is going to happen tonight, something terrible, tragic and just downright horrendous. People are going to die tonight Thomas. And I'm worried you're going to be one of them. You must promise me one thing, right here and right now."

"Fiona, I still don't understand. What do you mean?"

_Do I tell him? Should I? Should I tell him of the horror that will eventually swallow and consume this ship?_

"Thomas…that iceberg…is going to kill us…that shudder just now…down in your room…that was the iceberg…and in the next two and a half hours…oh god…the ship is going to sink…and fifteen hundred people are going to die."

"Fiona, you're talking nonsense. This ship is unsinkable. If God himself can't sink the Titanic, then an iceberg certainly won't." Thomas protested.

"Thomas, _you're_ talking nonsense! Remember how I said I don't feel like a first class girl? It's because I'm not. I'm middle class, from a modern day family in London. And I'm not…"

Before I could say anything else, men rushed past us and I immediately recognised them as crewmen, accompanied by none other than the Captain himself, and Thomas Andrews – designer of the ship – who had the most terrified look on his face I had ever seen. Thomas watched them walk behind us, listening in to their conversation.

"Too much damage…"

"Bulkheads torn apart…"

"Little time…"

"Water…bottom…Atlantic…"

The look on Thomas' face said it all. He knew I was telling the truth, and he was scared.

"Now do you believe me?!" I screeched. "We've got to get to a lifeboat before it's too late! Or else we'll drown!"

I began to run away from Thomas but his grip tightened around my hands and he held me in my place, looking deeply in to my eyes, their chocolaty brownness mixed with fear, suspicion and confusion.

"Fiona…if this is a joke, it's very convincing."

"That's because it's not…" I interrupted.

"And…" he resumed. "And…if it is true…that the ship is going to sink…and if we die tonight…can we be together?"

"What?"

"_If_ or _when_ it happens, promise me…promise me we'll be together when we go. I want you in my sight and in my arms when I take my last breath. No exceptions. I don't care if the cold of the ocean water numbs me completely; I want you to be my last sight before I die. My last request."

Well, I was in shock. He wanted me to be there when he died. And when I say when, I don't mean 'if'. My gut instinct was that Thomas and I were going to die tonight, along with 1500 other passengers. Young, old, rich, poor, smart, dumb, optimistic or negative – they were going to die, and I knew it.

Of course I knew it! I was practically obsessed with the subject in modern day life! I knew every detail about this ship and its demise. I knew the exact number of deaths, the fact the lifeboats were half-filled, the fact that a baby no older than two years would die tonight, and the concept that only one lifeboat would return to see the blanket of dead floating in the water, as an attempt to save any survivors – well, why bother? They'd be very unlucky in their mission.

As for me and Thomas – we'd only known each other three days and he was asking me to commit an act I knew would haunt me in this life and the next. I would have to watch him die in front of me, in my arms, if I wasn't dead before. This worried me more. A stray brick from a theatre roof had knocked me unconscious…would I wake up in the 21st century when I die in the 20th? Or would I remain forever oblivious to the events of the modern day, a patient in a coma, all because of one lousy red brick?! And at the beginning of my possible success?! At an audition I craved the part for! My own family unaware of what was going on to me now and then. Though I did think…I watched Doctor Who when I was a little younger and I always remember a saying: If I died in this century, would I still be alive as my own self in two hundred years?

The answer would be: No. Some complicated fictional nonsense later, I wondered: If I die tonight, surely I will die in 2012. I cannot live two different lives. But after tonight, surely I won't be able to. I'll be dead before the navy and black are replaced with orange, pink and blue. Before the ball of fire glistens the morning sky. Before the inky blackness of the star-lit atmosphere fades away and becomes a paradise landscape.

In other words: I'll be dead before the sun rises.

But back to the growing chaos – Thomas stood staring at me, his intentions clear as crystal as he held me close, waiting for an answer.

"Thomas…but what if we survive tonight? What if we manage to escape in a lifeboat and move on to America? What then? Will your desires still stay? Will you still want me there when you die – old man with a loving family, or a young boy full of hopes and dreams? Will you still want me when we arrive on dry land? If I say yes to your desires, then say yes to mine."

"Which are?" he asked.

"Please stay with me. I feel like I don't belong in this world or this reality but when I'm with you…when I have you in my sight and holding me close, I feel so…complete. Promise me, as much as I promise you, that'll be with me for as long as we can be together. As my last request."

I could feel the tears brimming in my eyes, the emotions running riot as much as the passengers soon would be, and my heart felt like it would burst at any moment. Thomas stood, dumbfounded by my words, trying to find a suitable answer.

"If you promise me?"

"I promise you."

"Then I do too. I'll stay with you." He said.

_And…cue tears!_

We embraced in one giant teddy bear hug, tears exploding from my eyes and running like rivers down my cheeks. I could feel Thomas holding back his own tears, his grip strong and loving around me.

_Don't ever let me go. Not even in death._

Thomas broke away from our hug, taking my hands in his, squeezing them gently as reassurance. He took my right hand and lifted it to his lips, kissing it in a gentlemanly manner, his eyes never leaving mine. But I wanted more than a kiss on the hand. I wanted one full on the lips. Though I never got one. Why not?

Because before Thomas could bring himself closer to me again – this time I knew he was going in for full snog – the chaos ensued. The distress rockets were launched, illuminating the sky like the 5th of November, showing off the glittery stars that made this horrific experience somewhat…pretty.

_Pretty terrifying, more like! Now get to a goddamn lifeboat while you still can! You're a first class girl, you'll have the privilege!_

Oh shut up! That rotten voice in my head, the one telling me to put myself first and not worry about anyone else _but_ me. So I put it out of my mind – ironic, I know – and focused on the situation.

Women, men, children and dogs were starting to run like deer from a stalking tiger – like crazy! Thomas was watching whatever I was watching, having turned away from an oncoming kiss.

"Fiona…"

"Yes?"

"What you said…how do you know the ship is going to sink? And you said you weren't first class…what do you mean?!"

"Oh Thomas…you wouldn't believe me in this lifetime or the next. I myself don't know how to explain it; I still don't understand it…"

"Understand what?"

"I'm not…I'm…I'm not from this life…"

He paused, staring at me like his life depended on it.

"What?!"

"I'm not from this lifetime. I'm not a first class girl in 1912 from London. I'm a middle class girl, from London…but I'm also from the year 2012. One hundred years from today."

I paused, knowing what Thomas was going to say or think – he thought I was insane.

"I still don't know how it happened, and I wish I had a logical explanation for it. One moment, in 2012, I am in a theatre performing for an audition, then I got knocked out by a loose brick from the roof…and I woke up here…on Titanic…and then I met you. I know you think that I'm crazy and…"

"I never said that. I never said you were crazy."

"But you were thinking it!"

"No, I wasn't" he replied.

_He wasn't? Well that's new!_

"You weren't?" I asked, slightly confused.

"No. I didn't think you were crazy because…somehow…I think I knew all along."

_That's also new!_

"You…what? You knew all along?"

"I believe I did."

"How? What was made it so obvious?"

"Just the way you were. Your general behaviour, your attitude, your daily habits…they certainly don't appear like that in this century. The way you talked about your parents…and your accent…don't take this the wrong way, but you don't sound first class."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment, thank you." I answered, trying not to let my sarcasm seep in. "You knew all along?"

"I guess I did."

My mind and heart were leaping for joy, thinking 'that was easy' and 'hooray, he doesn't think you're crazy'…but that didn't change anything. We were still on a sinking ship and we had only a few hours before we would take our last breath.

"Thomas, you have no idea how relieved I am…but we're still fighting for time. If you really trust me and you really believe that I'm not from this century…then let me help us to survive. I've studied this event so much; it's imprinted on my mind."

"OK, I trust you…tell me what's going to happen." He stared intently in to my eyes, listening to every word that I was saying.

"The lifeboats will be launched, but only women and children in first class will go first. Then second, then third, but the men won't stand a chance. And then…the lifeboats will only be launched half-filled…soon after, the first funnel will collapse…then…oh god, then…the ship will split in half. Right down between the third and final funnel. So if we can't get to a lifeboat, we have to get to the stern of the hip and hold on, because before we know it…we're going to be hanging on for our lives…and then…before two thirty in the morning…the ship will disappear and sink, leaving fifteen hundred passengers in the ocean water to die. If the suction of the ship going down doesn't do that, then the cold water will. Once the ship goes down, we'll have half an hour before…before we succumb to the cold…and die. Unless we find a piece of driftwood or a deck chair to float on…but first, we need to get lifejackets."

Thomas was silent as I performed that 'speech'. He listened to every word, widened his eyes when I told him the ship would split, and gaped in horror when I said after we entered the water, we'd have only half an hour left to live. He swallowed it all, nodding once I had finished, still holding me by my hands. He looked around him, watching the chaos and horror unfold as the lifeboats were launched and the first class women and children were put safely in to the boat. He nodded…before looking back at me, saying:

"OK, but first, I need to find my family. And some lifejackets for us."

And with that, we ran off down the boat deck at high speed, shouting for Thomas' Mum and Dad, and looking for little Lucy and Minerva.

Well viewers, I'm sure you'd want to read about the rest that happened that night but I'm afraid…well, you all know what happens. You know how the ship went down, the screams and the cries from the passengers, the shrill sound of the ship splitting in two and the stern rising up like a skyscraper on the New York landscape that was eventually consumed by the inky blackness of the Atlantic ocean. And the rest…I'd love to say that Thomas and I found a lifeboat, but…we didn't. Neither did his family. His mother held on to Lucy, and his father clung on to Minerva as the ship went down. Thomas held on to me like I was his most prized possession, keeping his arms wound tightly around me and vice versa. We had managed to find some spare lifejackets lying around, so at least we could float in the water. By the time we had arrived at the stern railings of the ship, my hair was messed up, my first class dress was missing some beads and the heels of my shoes had damaged the bottom of the dress – it was now frayed and had some very large holes in it. But I didn't really care. I never liked that dress anyway – it was too precious to wear. I thought even fiddling with one of the beads was damaging it, let alone running around on an 800 foot ship in it.

Anyway, moving along swiftly…by the time the clock had reached two thirty, we were in the water and clinging on for dear life. All of the drifting pieces of deck furniture were already occupied by other passengers, so Thomas and I knew then and there that our hopes of surviving ad arriving in America were just…fantasies.

Merely dreams that would never come true.

So we floated in the water, bobbing up and down, arms around one another as we listened to the sound of screeching, shouting and pleas for the lifeboats to come back. But I knew they wouldn't. Not for another hour or so and by then we'd all be dead.

With this thought on my mind, I accepted the disastrous fate and started silently counting the minutes before my heart went silent. Thomas held me against him, my head against his chest and my fingers locked in a clasp behind his back, so we held each other like we were glued together.

"Can you see your Mum and Dad? Or your sisters?" I asked, my teeth chattering from the cold, but I feared the worst response from Thomas.

"No, I can't. They must be somewhere around here. How are you doing?"

"I've been b.b. . Warmer for...a…s.s. . You?" I stuttered, taking a deep breath.

"Well…I could really go a plate of hot s.s. right now b. …I think that's not an option."

"When the lifeboats get here, and they take us to New York, then you can have all of the hot stew that you want" I said, filling us both with false hope but Thomas was having none of it.

"Don't lie to me Fiona. You know as well as I do, we're not getting out of here. We're not going to America. The next place we'll be going to is the graveyard."

"Or heaven" I managed to say. Heaven sounded like a better option than a graveyard. At least I'd be able to see my Nan, all my lost loved ones, and at least I wouldn't be spending eternity in a wooden box six feet underground in Canada. But I couldn't stand talk about death, I'd had enough of it when my Nan died. So I changed the subject to something more heart-warming and…meaningful.

"Thomas?"

"Yes Fiona."

"Did you ever put words to your music?"

"Words? To make it in to a song?"

"Yes. Did you ever do that?"

"No…not really. I never found the right words that fit the rhythm."

"What if…I…suggested some lyrics…for my song?"

"Your song? With words?"

"Yes…if you think it'll work."

"I never really thought about it…but I suppose…if we found the correct words…it could work." He answered. I sighed a light smile. If I was to die tonight, in the arms of my one and only love, then let me go down with my song in my mind, my heart and my soul. That's all I asked for. The most beautiful piece of music I had ever heard, to be playing in my mind when I died.

Thomas started humming his tune, and I could tell he had closed his eyes to concentrate and let his music take over. He began humming the start of the tune, its graceful and passionate notes coming back to me like a favourite memory. The perfect words for the perfect song were hard to find, especially when the cold numbed our senses completely, but I managed to find one sliver of hope and found a few words to accompany my song.

"My eyes see all of your beauty,

My ears hear your gentle voice,

My soul can see the sweetness inside,

That makes your heart complete.

My mind is not a perfect thing,

But one thing I can tell,

Is that you are my destiny,

And the love of my life as well.

We may come from years apart,

And not know what the future holds,

But as long as you have me in your arms,

That's all I want from you.

We don't have long to say goodbye,

But say farewell to this,

You are my perfect one true love,

And always will be, God bless."

"How did that sound?" I asked Thomas. "Beautiful? Not quite perfect? We can work on it if need be" I looked up to face him…and was confronted by my worst fear.

His eyes were closed. His head had lolled forward. His hair was covered in ice, and his skin practically blue. And his grip had loosened around me.

Half an hour, that's all it took. All it took to take him away from me.

"Thomas? Thomas, can you hear me? Say something…anything…don't do this to me Thomas…don't leave me alone…don't leave me Thomas…"

And with that, I broke down in to tears. My sobs echoed across the night sky like a wailing banshee and I didn't dare stop. There was no one there to stop me. No one alive, or at least willing to stop a crying girl.

"You can't leave me behind Thomas…you can't…we have to spend the rest of our lives together…in America…you and your music…me and you…"

And then, those words. Those words that could build a relationship, destroy an army, stop a war, and strengthen any love.

Those words that I longed to give to the perfect man in my life, this one or the next.

I brought myself to face Thomas, his eyes shut, making him look like he was in a deep sleep. I snuggled close to him, feeling that my time was coming to a close, so I took the opportunity in what was left of my life…and I kissed Thomas. His lips were cold as ice, though I felt like I could detect a hint of warmth in him. Wished to feel for him to kiss me back, but he didn't. And that confirmed my worst fears. He really was dead.

_Those words, Fiona…what are they?_

Pulling away from the kiss, and feeling my heart beat coming to an end, I used my very last breath to utter those magic words.

"I love you Thomas. Goodbye."

And then…I died.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six: Back to Reality.

Date: 10th April 2012

Time: 4:20pm

Location: Walkway Studios.

"Come on Fiona, don't do this to us. Wake up! Damn it Fiona, wake up!" I heard Sarah screaming.

"Take it easy, maybe we should call an ambulance?" someone said.

"I can see blood, I think we should."

"Hang on…hang on a minute…she's coming round. Her eye lids just fluttered." Sarah said, relieved. "Fiona? Fiona, can you hear me?" I groaned in response, opening my eyes a fraction to see Sarah's concerned face looking down at me, and I was surrounded by the judges at the audition and a few unfamiliar men.

"What the hell happened?" I asked, lifting my head slightly and realising how much pain it was in. "How much did I have to drink?" I said, thinking the pain in my head was the common diagnosis known as a 'hangover'.

"Is there a drink called a 'loose red brick'?"

"I don't think so. A brick? Where the hell did a brick come from? The audience? Was I that bad?"

"The roof. No. And most definitely no. You were the complete opposite of bad, you were astounding. You put Celine Dion to shame" Sarah claimed.

"You're a great friend but a terrible liar Sarah" I said, observing my surroundings and slowly sitting upright. "How long was I out for?"

"Only five minutes" 'Peter' answered. "We were about to call you an ambulance but, you came round just in time. Does it hurt badly?"

"Did Apollo 11 land on the moon?" I replied sarcastically, bringing my hand to my head…and feeling something warm and liquid.

"Is that blood? Am I bleeding?"

"Just a little, which is why we are taking you to the doctor." Sarah instructed, taking me by the hand and helping me up on to my feet.

"Is it David Tennant?" I asked.

"Wrong doctor, Fiona. It's Matt Smith now" Sarah answered.

"Oh yeah…of course."

"Can we get you some water, Fiona?" Ruby asked.

"Please. I need a drink. After what I've just been through, I think I need something stronger."

"It was only a small brick" Kenneth replied.

"Not that, I mean…"

And then I thought. Somehow four days had passed me by, and in barely five minutes. What had happened? Had Titanic actually happened? Did I really meet Thomas? Did I find my true love in only three days? Or was it one big dream?

"What song was I singing?"

"'My Heart Will Go On'" Sarah answered.

"What did it come from?" I asked, turning to Sarah as Ruby returned with a glass of water.

"Fiona, of all the things to ask, you're asking that? It came from Titanic, the film."

"And that was…" I looked to Sarah.

"Based on the true story."

It had all happened. It had actually happened. None of it was a dream. I was on Titanic. I was in love. And Thomas had died in the process.

"Oh…of course…yeah…how could I forget?" I answered looking down at my cup of water, breathing deeply and ignoring the throbbing pain in my head. How could I forget?

That was the thing. I couldn't.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven: Life after Titanic.

Date: 21st July 2012

Time: 5:25pm

Location: New York, USA

Three months had passed since my 'ordeal' on the most famous ship of all history (so far). Nothing much had changed. I returned to Walkway Studios a week later to complete my audition, and I got the part!

As a mini celebration, Mum and Dad surprised me and three of my friends with a spontaneous holiday…to New York! Just me, Sarah and our two other friends Isobel and Charlotte in America for two weeks, living it up like there was no tomorrow and spending all of our hard-earned, well-saved cash.

We had arrived two days before, on the 19th of July to a hot sunny city, the glass from the buildings sparkling in the summer sunshine. My god, it was beautiful. What a way to celebrate all of our success – mine as a singer, Sarah's as a pianist, and Isobel and Charlotte getting in to their desired University on their first attempt. Everything was pure happiness. Though in the back of my mind, the thought of Thomas and his family going down with the ship still ate at my insides. I couldn't ignore my troubles, so I was a little worried when Mum and Dad told us of the trip to New York. My 1912 doppelganger was saying "Oh great! What a way to travel! To the site where you and Thomas would've started your perfect lives together." But my true 2012 teenage mind was screaming "HOLIDAY!"

So, there we were. In New York! The time now was nearly half past five in the evening, and our plans were laid out ahead. Go back to the hotel to prepare ourselves for a night out in the city: dinner, a Broadway show, drinks afterwards before a girly night in with wine, chocolates and our latest shopping delights. Sounded ideal.

The girls had gone ahead of me back to the hotel to prepare for the night. They knew I only took five minutes to decide what to wear so they weren't worried about me slowing them down. I continued with my shopping, catching sight of my reflection in the shop windows – long brown loose hair, skinny denim jeans, my red converses, and a strappy red top – and I was walking down an avenue – I can't remember which one – when I turned a corner and started hearing some music. Enchanting music.

I carried on walking down the avenue, catching sight of the music's source – a violinist, standing beside his open case, slowly filling with spare coins. I recognised the music he was playing, but I couldn't put a name to the song. I had heard it before, I knew that, but where and what it was from, puzzled me.

The violinist was wearing faded blue jeans, with worn-out brown shoes on his feet with a long black jacket that covered a faded white shirt. How he could wear that jacket in this heat, I had no idea! Upon his head was a muddy brown hat that concealed his eyes, but showed off his scruffy brown hair. I could tell he was watching me approach him, judging by his body language and the way his head was cocked. He turned away briefly as I came closer, my feet within his line of vision. I stopped to admire him playing his violin with such dedication and enthusiasm, fishing in to my jeans pocket to find a spare dollar or two. Success, three dollars in my hand. I tossed them in to the red velvet lined violin case and watched the violinist nod his head in gratitude.

I simply smiled in return and started walking away, just as the tune was coming to an end. The violinist finished the tune on a graceful high note before immediately starting his next performance, flowing from one song to another. He began with a middle note, slowly picking it up to a higher note before gently teasing the strings with the bow. I could picture him playing as I walked away, listening intently to the music.

Then…

_My eyes see all of your beauty,_

_My ears hear your gentle voice_

It couldn't be…

_My soul can see the sweetness inside,_

_That makes your heart complete._

It was. It was _**my song**_. I stopped in my tracks, feeling my feet stick to the concrete walkway.

_My mind is not a perfect thing,_

_But one thing I can tell,_

I turned to see the violinist playing, but his body had changed position completely and now he was standing in the middle of the walkway, facing me, watching me stand there in shock. I could feel his eyes bearing in to me like a red hot laser, a small ghostly smile appearing on his hidden face.

_Is that you are my destiny,_

_And the love of my life as well._

I longed to run over to him, whip his hat off and see what mysterious face hid underneath but…something held me back. My heart? My mind? My willpower? I don't know what.

_We may come from years apart,_

_And not know what the future holds,_

I could feel tears brewing in my eyes, close to breaking down in to a deep sob, right here in the middle of New York.

_But as long as you have me in your arms,_

_That's all I want from you._

It was like Thomas was with me then and there, like he was playing the violin, his ghost possessing the musician, and speaking to me through his love of music, through my song.

_**My song**_. Probably the most beautiful, personal and painful present anyone had ever given me in my entire life. It was enchanting to listen to, but heart-breaking to think of what happened to its creator.

_We don't have long to say goodbye,_

_But say farewell to this,_

What else could I do now? Run up to this violinist? Ask him where he got that piece of music from? Assume he was the reincarnation of Thomas, run up and kiss him? Tell him how much I always have and always will love him? Or walk away?

I chose to walk away and back towards the hotel, leaving the music behind like an abandoned puppy in the rain. It broke my heart again to think I was saying goodbye once more, to the thing I loved so much.

But Thomas – dead or alive – would always be my love. My one and only love. He understood me and accepted me for the girl I was – sometimes crazy, a little eccentric, with an adventurous spirit and a classic romantic.

I chuckled amongst the tears to my thoughts and the memories, wiping away a stray tear that rolled down my cheek. My feet had found their movement again and resumed walking down the avenue. I found strength and courage within me, cherishing this as my steps increased, as did my distance between me and the musician. He came to play the last two lines, putting more passion and love in to the music, and I could still feel his eyes bearing in to me.

Watching me walk away.

Watching me cry.

Watching me say goodbye.

Always watching me…with those perfect chocolate brown eyes.

_You are my perfect one true love,_

_And always will be, God bless._

The End.


End file.
